


Nowhere to go but Everywhere

by horatio



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adult Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, Angst and Humor, Beacon Hills, Break Up, Diary/Journal, Family Drama, Heartbreak, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Road Trips, Running Away, Slow Build, Stilinski Family Feels, Tattooed Stiles, Travel, Wanderlust, Writer Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horatio/pseuds/horatio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles's legs dangling over the side of the cliff and he leaned back on his hands as he looked out in front of himself. Mountains sprawled in every direction for as far as the eye could see. He had woken up at the crack of dawn and driven to the highest lookout point in the park to see the first sunrise of the summer. At 5 AM it was still deserted and except for the birds beginning to wake all was quiet.<br/>--------------------------------------------------------<br/>After making his way through college, after a three year relationship ends, and after hours of fighting with his dad, Stiles decides he needs out. With a duffelbag, an old atlas, and his jeep he leaves Beacon Hills without any destination. He figures he'll go east and no matter where he ends up it'll be better then where he started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nowhere to go but Everywhere

Stiles sat quietly, his legs dangling over the side of the cliff, his jeans damp from the morning dew. In front of him mountains sprawled in every direction for as far as the eye could see. He had woken up at the crack of dawn and driven to the highest lookout point in the park to see the first sunrise of the summer. At 5 AM it was still deserted and except for the birds beginning to wake all was quiet. As the minutes passed, the morning haze grew steadily brighter and the sun began to peek through the masses of clouds hanging over the horizon.

As his eyes scanned every rise and fall of the skyline, memories of the past 24 years flooded Stiles’ mind. Except for his brief six-month stint living in Cambridge, Stiles had been in California his entire life. He had been on trips before, but with his dad’s busy work schedule and the expense of traveling, it didn't happen often.

These mountains were the one place that he had been many times. Before he was born Stiles’ parents would go hiking almost every weekend - a box of old photographs shoved under his bed proved as much. Even after his mom was diagnosed the trio made the occasional trip, eventually just John and Stiles, and then the trips stopped altogether. John claimed that his work schedule was too much with his promotion to Sheriff, but Stiles knew it was that the memories were too much to handle.

Before the end of each trip as they stood at the base of the mountain, Claudia would always smile and say the same thing.

“One day you’ll be taller than these mountains.”

Stiles knew the height of the mountains - He had seen them looming above him from the forest floor. They hadn’t gotten any smaller, but at this distance they looked insignificant. He reached out his hand to compare. The closest mountain was the size of his hand, the most distant was smaller than his pinky nail.

_Here I’m bigger than the mountains._

_ _

Looking over his shoulder, Stiles examined the blue jeep which sat on the edge of the clearing. Rust rimmed the tire wells and dotted the hood, and the dent in side from junior year of high school was still there. Even Stiles admitted that it looked old and could use a good paint job, but if the car could survive through a decade of adventures, it could surely survive a few more years.

A slight breeze ruffled the Stiles hair and his attention was drawn back to the scene in front of him. As his thoughts wondered he ran his fingers through his hair and pushed it back from his forehead, still not used to anything more than a buzz-cut. With a sigh, Stiles pushed himself to his feet and walked the short distance back to his beloved car, running his hand gently over the hood as he went. He ran his eyes methodically over every inch, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Let’s go, Benny,” he murmured to himself and grabbed the handle, pulling hard to open the stubborn door. He swung his legs inside and turned the keys, efficient after years of practice. The engine purred to life, the loud noise disrupting the melancholy atmosphere and sending a flock of birds flying off into the distance.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, Stiles grabbed his weathered atlas, flipping it open it to one of the many dog eared pages. Between the pages was wedged a stiff piece of paper that he had stuck there yesterday. He held up the paper, feeling the glossy photo under his fingertips and the sharp corner poke into his palm. The postcard had been bought the day before at the tiny shop on the edge of the campsite. Nestled among a spread of pine trees, the store had been a one room building selling nothing but packaged food, hiking gear, and tourist memorabilia.

The postcards sat next to the cash register and although they were old and overly photoshopped, Stiles had grabbed one and thrown in on the counter alongside his meager assortment of water bottles and trail mix.  The postcard now resting between his fingers depicted Half Dome, Yosemite’s most famous mountain, cast in a rose-red sunset with “Greetings from Yosemite National Park” written across the bottom.

 _God, this is American idealism if I’ve ever seen it_.

Turing it over in his hand, the Stiles read the words he had scrawled across the back yesterday. “First Stop - Yosemite National Park. June 3rd. “

Several hours later, Stiles still didn’t know what he was going to do with the postcard. He had considered sending it home to his dad, but things between them were still strained and it didn’t feel quite right. Maybe tomorrow then. Without a decision made, Stiles quickly shoved the postcard into the glovebox and it was soon forgotten.

 Right now, all he wanted now was to make his way out of the mountains before the real traffic began. The winding roads were challenging enough to drive even with a sturdy car and years of experience driving through these parks, but heayy traffic just made everything worse.

Focusing his attention back on the atlas, Stiles studied the path he had drawn out in red sharpie just a few days prior. The starting point, his hometown of Beacon Hills, had been marked with a large red “X” and was already miles behind him. A shaky dashed line connected his hometown to Yosemite and continued to wind across the country to its eventual end on the east coast. Tentative stops had been circled, but the path was just a general plan. Without a real destination it didn’t really matter where he went.

_There’s nowhere to go but everywhere._

Stiles shook his head, trying to rid his mind of all the thoughts bottled up inside. He knew he had picked a horrible time to leave, right after a fight with John and after a hard breakup, but he needed time. Stiles knew that he would have to face it all eventually, but for now he would drive and drive and try to forget. He would face it another time.

Stiles pressed a few buttons on the dashboard and the soft drawl of The Alabama Shakes filled the air. Taking one last look at the stretch of mountains and crawling pine trees, he shifted into first gear and turned onto the winding mountain road.

* * *

 

_Why_  
Is an awful lot of question  
And I can't give me no answer  
I keep wondering on

 

* * *

 


End file.
